


Gravity Overcoming Friction

by Incessant_Darkness



Series: The Rules of the Game [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Police AU, WAFF, domestic unrest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 21:23:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2482943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incessant_Darkness/pseuds/Incessant_Darkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No relationship is perfect, but some are worse than others, some are worth more than others too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gravity Overcoming Friction

It is not that they argue. There are a great many things that are off-center about their relationship, Kuroo is well aware, but they don’t argue. Rather, it is a pressing silence. The threatened hint of arguments buried so deep that they have their own gravity, their own unspoken orbit, unwritten rules. The reality is, they are both set to lose and neither consider that a worthy reason to instigate the truth. So they don’t argue, but somehow that’s worse.

 

Their relationship is akin to a lightning strike—or at least that how Tsukishima cares to justify it—improbable at first glance but upon closer inspection it becomes obvious that the two of them stand head and shoulders above the crowd and the mystery is removed, only leaving behind a smudge of misfortune and the sweet remembered smell of ozone, long-dissipated.

 

All in all, if Kuroo were pressed to define it, he would concede it’s very non-traditional, which perhaps is part of the problem. Kuroo has never been a part of a relationship—romantic or otherwise—where his careful wheedling hasn’t put him on top.

 

Then again he has never been in a relationship quite the likes of the one he has with Tsukishima and he seriously doubts Tsukishima has either. That may also be part of it. That, and a thousand other things that nettle at their co-existence.

 

For one, Tsukishima cannot for the life of him react like a normal human being. What was once intriguing has grown into the bane of Kuroo’s existence. Every time he thinks he has Tsukishima trapped it’s like a switch is flipped and Tsukishima becomes at once something less than himself and something more. The conversation slides into an endless maze of meaningless psychobabble that Kuroo more often than not suspects is a slight at his inherent incomprehension of the inner operations of Tsukishima’s mind, and it only ends when everything between them feel broken and hollow.

 

It’s unfair of course, that Tsukishima employs his professional skills in their private life. Which is why Kuroo feels no remorse when one day, at the peak of frustration in the midst of an early morning spat he handcuffs Tsukishima to their headboard and leaves him there for the day. Kuroo can’t even bring himself to regret it. Not even when Tsukishima ignores his existence for the next week.

 

Waiting for retaliation is shear torture however, enough so that Kuroo convinces himself it is much worse than anything Tsukishima can do to him and then, in time he can’t help but suspect that the constant state of anticipation _is_ the punishment Tsukishima has chosen for him.

 

It’s almost comical how wrong he is, and Kuroo wishes he’d kept his hitherto useless apartment when he comes home and finds Tsukishima waiting for him, at least then he could turn around and walk right back out. Instead Kuroo makes his way cautiously into the living room, and stands in place regarding Tsukishima from above, unwilling to sit under some ill-supported notion that he will somehow be giving up all claim to a position of power if he does.

 

Tsukishima’s dressed in an argyle cardigan that Kuroo knows he wears exclusively to work, and the sharp, narrow frames he uses only when he’s called to testify in court. There is a file with Kuroo’s name scrawled across it resting on the coffee table between them. It is vaguely recognizable as the disciplinary file the department keeps on him. Somehow, it looks larger than he remembers it being. Kuroo moves his gaze away from it and wishes he hadn’t when he is instead forced to take in the entirety of Tsukishima’s posture: the whippy length of his legs crossed and leading into the upturned line of his right foot which seems to speak volumes of Tsukishima’s condescension for him all on its own, never mind the way his hands sit atop his knee _just so_.

 

Yet again Kuroo is hard-pressed to not simply turn around and leave but he knows they are beyond the point of disagreement. They are like rams at mating season, horns locked tight and there is a good chance one of them is going to end up with a broken neck on such uneasy footing.

 

“What is that for?” Kuroo doesn’t mean to spit the words out quite as forcefully as he ends up doing but once they begin to slip it’s like a dam giving way. “Don’t tell me, in your infinite wisdom, you’ve discovered the key to fixing poor, broken old me.”

 

“No, even my infinite wisdom cannot fix the likes of you.” It is obvious Tsukishima is saying it to be cruel. He does it with that calm, imposing voice, the one that Kuroo sometimes thinks is crafted for the singular purpose of flaying tender flesh from bone. Kuroo is immune to it. Mostly.

 

“Sit down.” Tsukishima gestures and Kuroo it tempted to see if he can crack that veneer smile with the sheer determination of his knuckles. He holds back through. Mostly because he’s certain of one thing, and that is that no matter how angry he is at Tsukishima, he could never lay a hand on him in that way. On the other hand, Tsukishima plainly has no qualms about his own strengths.

 

The file is flipped open and Kuroo misses the motion he’s so focused on glaring Tsukishima down.

 

“You’re impulsive and reckless and you have no consideration for the disruption you are. Since I know you won’t take my word for it, I thought it prudent to provide you with evidence.” Tsukishima’s fingers look almost skeletal turning the pages. It makes Kuroo see red. “That sort of thing is meaningful to a man like you isn’t it? Evidence?”

 

The folder is open to the report of the most infuriating incident Kuroo can recall. Considering all that Tsukishima has done to rescue his career from that mishap, Kuroo is astonished it is being used as ammunition now.

 

“Sure. Why. Not.” Kuroo throws his arms in the air. “While we’re at it, I might as well confess. I stole a stick of gum when I was five. Lock me up and throw away the key officer—oh wait…”

 

A look that might be rage swims through Tsukishima’s eyes as he watches Kuroo spin his cuffs on a finger, taunting. The silence that closes around them is suffocating like a poisonous fog making it dangerous to breathe let alone speak.

 

Finally, Kuroo leans back, draping his arms along the back of his seat as he eyes Tsukishima with something that feels dangerously like exhaustion. “The problem with you,” The words are painful to speak, they feel raw and irretrievable as he forces them into the hollow space between them. “Is that you operate at zero commitment. Either that or with one-hundred percent cut-throat determination. There is no middle ground. No place safe. It’s a wonder you can even live with yourself.”

 

The broken feeling is back, but this time Kuroo realizes with a sinking dread that in an effort to cut Tsukishima, he’s cut himself deeper. There is no response, Kuroo doesn’t require one to realize his mistake. He’d thought he didn’t care for Tsukishima’s feelings but he finds himself horrified at how cruel he’s been to Tsukishima—even if it’s in retaliation—and it hurts him, like a punch to the gut.

 

An aching reality makes itself plain then. It isn’t that Tsukishima isn’t inclined to argue, it’s that he’s painfully aware of his own powers of destruction. He hasn’t stepped on a landmine, he’s taken it and plunged it directly into Tsukishima’s chest and in the process blown his own heart to shreds.

 

Tsukishima stands and Kuroo knows he has no chance of stopping him but he tries anyways.

 

“Listen, Kei—”

 

“You signed up for this, if you don’t like it do us both a favour and cut loose.” There is a strange static in the air, a friction that makes Kuroo’s skin feel uncomfortably warm and tight.

 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Kuroo is more taken aback then anything. He expects rage or one of Tsukishima’s patent facetious smiles—the one he uses right before inflicting grand emotional carnage. Instead there is a calm directness about Tsukishima’s response.

 

“It means that if you think this is no longer worth your while, then end it. Or I’ll end it. It’s all the same. Inevitable really. No hard feelings.”

 

The tension from the fight is gone, in its wake remains a resounding emptiness. There is nothing unreasonable about Tsukishima’s words. He hasn’t proposed they end things just then, simply that there is no need to prolong something that has grown painful. There is a blinding sense in that which Kuroo can’t find the resolve to refute.

 

“Yeah, alright.” Kuroo surrenders. “I’ll do that.”

 

*

 

The rain is coming down in sheets, cascading in a never-ending torrent and the noise of it beating against the department roof is the loudest thing he’s heard since the near blowout of his argument with Tsukishima a week earlier.

 

Sitting at his desk, dragging himself through a dwindling mound of paperwork, Kuroo can’t help but wonder if it would have been easier if the dam had given way earlier. Would it have been like a spillway relieving the pressure little by little or would it have been the same carnage regardless? Honestly, Kuroo doesn’t want to know.

 

He wants instead to apologize for not pulling his punches, for speaking to Tsukishima in a way that broke their unspoken agreement to only graze each other’s feelings with the cutting edge of their words. He almost thinks it would have been better if he had simply punched Tsukishima.

 

The days since have been a tense lull. Tsukishima has gone about his days as if nothing had happened and Kuroo has been waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Tsukishima to end the relationship as casually as he’d brought up the suggestion. Despite catching Tsukishima deep in thought however, Kuroo realizes that a breakup is not forthcoming, which in turn has only made him feel worse for what he’d said.

 

In close to a year of being with him, Kuroo has never seen Tsukishima’s confidence shaken, and over the course of a week it dawns on Kuroo that he’s put a brittle crack in the self-possessed certainty of Tsukishima’s character. He hates himself for it.

 

The sound of the rain escalates to a dull roar and it draws Kuroo from his thoughts. His attention wanders to his phone and he debates calling Tsukishima, of apologizing or perhaps just reconciling but he knows it he owes it to Tsukishima to do it in person. He commits himself to tackling the radio silence between them that very night, even if it kills him…

 

Lost deep in the process of constructing an effective opening statement, Kuroo can’t help but startle when the phone rings. Just the one at first, then two then five and then it seems every phone in the department is ringing. The phone on his desk is one of the last and Kuroo is making vaguely alarmed eye contact with an officer just across from him when it joins the cacophony. He answers it halfway through the first ring.

 

“What’s the problem?”

 

“There was a massive landslide. It completely washed out the mountain pass. We need all hands on deck.”

 

Kuroo manages to keep his heart wedged beneath his ribs long enough to answer in the affirmative. With one hand he hangs up the phone while the other dials Tsukishima with an urgency that almost sees his cell slip to the floor. Fumbling he presses it to his ear where it rings, and rings and rings.

 

*

 

The rain has eased some, just enough not to be blinding but it is still treacherous. Kuroo s drenched to the bone even through his wind-breaker and the palms of his hands are blistered and numb where they’ve been clutching the wood grain of a mud-caked shovel. Kuroo has only just let himself be dragged back to the base of operations and is clutching a paper cup of coffee in one hand, but he is too wired to drink it. He wants to be back out _there_ , digging, searching—anything.

 

The coffee cup is abandoned on the table the second his supervising officer turns his back to him and Kuroo is stepping back into the fray. A young volunteer officer-in-training allows him past the barricade and Kuroo surges forward, ignoring the mud pulling at his boots, threatening to drag him over the edge of the cliff that makes up the left border of this hellish mountain pass. Kuroo is just about to join up with the knot if troops digging loose what might have once been a white car— the door is half way to clear and the window rolled down and one of the soldiers is calming the frightened woman inside as they work— when a flare lights up the low cloud ceiling somewhere at his back. Kuroo sees the bright red hue it casts in the gathering dark.

 

Everyone else stops to look and then the stillness breaks as the effort to extract the woman is renewed with a harried urgency. Those who had begun clearing the next buried vehicle abandon the pursuit as the lead rescuer calls out over the wind.

 

“That’s it for now boys. Next shift will be here in a minute.”

 

Kuroo doesn’t move.

 

“Hey kid, go home and get some rest. You can come back fresh in the morning.”

 

“No, I’m alright.” Kuroo insists.

 

“Look, we’re in no position to lose good men out here.”

 

“I’m fine.” The words are bitten out and fierce, powerful enough to stop the shivering in his chest. Kuroo wonders what the look in his eyes must be for the man to back off, but he doesn’t wonder for long. He strides recklessly past him on legs that feel like jelly and picks up the task the other men have abandoned.

 

Kuroo isn’t certain how long he’s been at it when he uncovers the driver’s side window. He is mired in mud and rocks to his knees and is the only dimly aware that there are other people around him, helping him. The rain has picked up again, heavy enough to be blinding.

 

From a direction that Kuroo can only barely identify as to the west a siren blares to life, a warning as to a high risk of re-slide. A signal to pull out. Only the window is clear and Kuroo barely registers the fact that he is pushed aside as a large man cracks through the glass with the back of his shovel.

Blinded by rainwater and exhausted to his very bones, it takes a minute for Kuroo to see the person that crawls out of the car.

 

“Kuroo?”

 

It is the sweetest relief to lean forward and wrap his around Tsukishima, almost falling over for the fact that his feet are rooted in the mud still. Tsukishima holds him close enough that the relief spreads from the initial point of contact, burning away his awareness of the fact that he is exhausted and wet and just about dead on his feet. When Tsukishima pulls back Kuroo sees him through clear eyes for the first time and remarkably, he appears to be perfectly calm and self-composed despite the nightmare situation from which he’s only just been extracted.

 

Kuroo leans on him as they trudge through the mud double-time towards the blaring beacon of the warning siren. Side by side they ride back to safety in the back of one of the military trucks the rescue troops rode in on. Kuroo hears over the short-wave the news that the pass had been washed out by a flashflood just minutes after they had vacated the rescue area. His heart drops. There are people still trapped there, buried under thousands of tons of mud in cars made coffins and he knows the chances of finding anyone alive has plummeted. Tsukishima had so very nearly been one of their number. His hand clenches tight, not noticing that his fingers are interlaced with lean, pale digits that he is crushing. There is not a word of complaint. Instead a hand finds the back of his neck and he startles, coming back to himself.

 

There are no words, nothing that could make it alright, but Kuroo leans heavily into Tsukishima’s shoulder and relearns how to breathe after having held his breath for so long.

 

*

 

Back at the emergency response headquarters—the commandeered gymnasium of a local middle school—Kuroo sits numbly and is reprimanded for having stayed out too long in clear violation of his orders. Though Tsukishima remains at his side, his unmoving presence is distant, apart from the rest of the world.

 

It takes a little convincing but after a paramedic looks him over, Kuroo is allowed to leave without paying a visit to the hospital. Probably for the better because he knows just how overwhelmed the hospital will be in such a state of crisis and the last thing he wants to do is sit around wet and dirty in a back hallway somewhere to be waved out the door by some wrung out doctor on a triple shift.

 

Tsukishima drives them home; Kuroo’s nerves are shot and he can’t fathom how well Tsukishima is handling being in a car again so soon after everything. The roads are deserted and the rain has slowed down to a drizzle. They make good time. The whole while Kuroo rests his hand on Tsukishima’s thigh, desperately thankful for such simple contact that he can’t help but feel he’s lost touch with reality.

 

When the haze lifts Kuroo frowns at the expression of consternation that he sees on Tsukishima’s face. They are standing in the bedroom, close enough that Kuroo can feel the body heat warming the icy chill of his damp and muddy clothes.

 

“What?” Kuroo manages, and thinks it best to restrict himself to one word sentences just then.

 

“You are soaking wet, frozen through and through, in shock and you nearly killed yourself out there tonight. What were you thinking?” The fierceness that shines through Tsukishima’s eyes is as intense as Kuroo has ever seen them and it burns some of the life back into his veins.

 

“You.” Kuroo grinds out and then single word sentences be damned, he is spilling every word that’s build up in his heart over the span of the evening. “I knew you’d be on the road, that you would be on your way home. I prayed it wasn’t the case, that you’d made it past or hadn’t left at all but I couldn’t get ahold of you—” Kuroo runs out of breath and Tsukishima’s thumb pressing over his lips keeps the remaining words in his throat. He wants to apologize and he knows Tsukishima knows. A soft shake of the head stops him.

 

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” The words are not gentle but Kuroo doesn’t need gentle, he needs Tsukishima.

 

The water of the shower hurts like pinpricks against his bare skin. Tsukishima’s fingers dispel the feeling as he wipes the mud from his skin fastidiously. Kuroo turns and moves and adjusts his stance obediently at Tsukishima’s every whim, feeling a little of the numbness he keeps falling into creep away with every bit of dirt Tsukishima scrubs from his skin.

 

It is while Tsukishima is scrubbing individual locks of hair clean that it occurs to Kuroo that this is the first time they’ve every shared a shower. Tsukishima is in the process of lathering his hair for a second time when Kuroo leans in and kisses him. Tsukishima doesn’t stop him. Not the kiss and not what follows either.

 

Afterwards, in the bedroom, Tsukishima ties the drawstring on Kuroo’s pants because his own fingers simply do not have the dexterity for the task in the state he’s in. And then he finds himself being put into bed.

 

“I’ll be back with some tea.”

 

Kuroo sits up and the blanket slips down to his waist, uncovering his bare chest and making him shiver. It feels a little bit wrong, or more accurately it feels like it should feel wrong. Tsukishima is the one who has had a brush with death, he is the one who should be taking care of Tsukishima.

 

“How are you so calm?” It’s enough that for Kuroo that he doesn’t sound hysterical as he says it.

 

“The perks of operating at a level of zero-commitment.”

 

Kuroo feels like a whole mountain’s worth of mud and rocks have just landed on his chest. He fights past the choking sensation to speak. “Kei, I didn’t mean—”

 

“No. You were right.” Tsukishima turns to face him and the complexity of emotion on his face leaves Kuroo breathless all over again. “I have always lived my life tuned out, if I engaged in anything at all then it was only ever on my own terms and with the knowledge that I would come out on top in the end.”

 

Shoving the blankets off himself Kuroo stands, intent on closing the distance between them but Tsukishima does it for him.

 

“I’m not used to it.” The words ghost against Kuroo’s lips and he’s holding on so tight to Tsukishima that he thinks he can hear the bones creaking under his grip. He isn’t sure if he’s holding Tsukishima up or keeping himself from collapsing and perhaps it’s better that way.

 

“Used to what?”

 

For a second Kuroo is convinced that there is no answer forthcoming. Tsukishima subverts his expectation with a slow and deliberate admission. “Feeling as alive as I do when I’m with you.”

 

The sensation of his heart giving a seizing leap nearly sends Kuroo to his knees. “Kei…” Thoughts and words and cohesion all lose themselves in the swell of emotions and Kuroo wants to apologize for what he’s said but all he can manage is a stuttered kiss.

 

“Of course it’s only natural that our emotions are heightened considering what we’ve been through, but….” Bright with conviction, Tsukishima makes Kuroo’s heart ache. “… before any of this happened, I was already trying to figure it out. Figure _us_ out, I might not be cut out for the type of relationship you need, but if it’s between that and losing you then it isn’t really a choice for me.”

 

“Today, when I thought you might be—”

 

“No, don’t tell me about today. Tell me truthfully how you felt before _this_.” It isn’t said with the conviction of a psychologist though, but rather with a hint of tentative fear, as if Tsukishima is nervous about what the answer will be.

 

“Guilty. What I said to you was out of line.” Tsukishima seems prepared to interrupt but Kuroo never gives him the chance. “I was terrified you didn’t care. That the second you felt inconvenienced by what we had you would leave. And I couldn’t bear it because…. I’m in love with you.”

 

And there it is, buried beneath all the non-arguments and a million things left unsaid. The true reason for the irresistible gravitational pull Tsukishima has over him. The fact is Kuroo is lightning struck and what are the chances that Tsukishima will be struck too? Only they stand head and shoulders above the crowd and that has to mean something. _It has to._

 

“I’m… in love with you too.”

 

The friction between them gives way, the earth beneath their feet changes, slides, wipes out all of the pretenses built up between them in the past year.

 

Kuroo’s lips are so brittle he’s certain it must feel like kissing a slab of shale to Tsukishima but that doesn’t give either of them pause as they come together. Eventually the kiss winds down and every ache and pain in Kuroo’s body begins to scream for attention all at once. Tsukishima puts him back in bed and leaves only to return with tea. Kuroo ends up sipping it gratefully and Tsukishima has the sense of mind to grab a spare blanket to drape on top of Kuroo before joining him.

 

Not for the first time Kuroo marvels at the unshakable presence of mind Tsukishima possesses.

 

“I know I was reckless but I’m glad I stayed out there.” Kuroo whispers once the tea is finished, the lights turned off and Tsukishima is a solid coal of warmth against his back. “I’m not prepared to lose you.”

 

The arms around Kuroo’s waist tighten and despite how calm and strong he appears, Kuroo knows it doesn’t mean Tsukishima is unafraid.

 

“That may be the case but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to lose you either. So never do anything so monumentally stupid ever again or we’re done, do you understand?”

 

Kuroo is practically purring as he replies. “Whatever you say, _love_.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably the last part for this series unless inspiration strikes. I really wanted to write this one for a long while now so I'm glad I've managed to finish it. I hope everyone enjoys it.


End file.
